


After Tea and Cakes and Ices

by cherryberry12



Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, No Uchiha Massacre, Sasuke still isn't home, Uchiha Itachi Being a Good Brother, Uchiha Itachi-centric, but like to a fault
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:21:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24009541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryberry12/pseuds/cherryberry12
Summary: Karin is his sister-in-law's good friend.There really shouldn't be much more to it than that.
Relationships: Background Uchiha Sasuke/Haruno Sakura, Karin & Uchiha Sarada, Karin/Uchiha Itachi, Uchiha Itachi & Uchiha Sarada
Comments: 7
Kudos: 21





	After Tea and Cakes and Ices

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!! I'm here making bad decisions again!! 
> 
> My original note got deleted, so I'll be brief... this started as a tumblr prompt, got repurposed into a rarepair bingo fic... and now I'm just kinda... out here finishing it. It grew ahhh about 15x its size between my initial outlined draft and... and whatever this thing is.
> 
> This started as an excuse to write ItaKarin as Sarada's aunt and uncle. I kinda lost control of it in the midst of that. 
> 
> Title is from The Long Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot:
> 
> “Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,  
> Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?  
> But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,  
> Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,  
> I am no prophet--and here's no great matter;  
> I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,  
> I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,  
> And in short, I was afraid. ”

“You are quiet tonight, Sarada,” Itachi notes. “It’s rather unlike you.”

Sarada pushes her glasses up her nose and squints at the puzzle they’ve been working on all night, a broad, 500-piece monstrosity of the Hokage Monument sprawled across Sakura’s coffee table. Ordinarily she would have finished it by now, or at least done more than pat down a few frame pieces before folding her hands in her lap again.

He wants to say that she’s only engrossed in it, and that she isn’t sullen but focused. 

If he did say it, however, he’d be wrong. 

Sarada’s eyes keep straying towards the windows and away from her work, absentmindedly watching the storm outside. It’s a severe one, heavy enough that the lights overhead occasionally flicker, and the wind howls through the narrow streets of the Uchiha Compound.

It’s a fairly typical storm for this time of year—it brewed in the morning and lingered in the afternoon, waiting patiently for those few key moments when the majority of villagers were just leaving work. By the time he had reached his sister-in-law’s house, the streets had been cleared of people, and Sarada and Karin were already bundled up inside in warm blankets.

Since then, Sarada has had very little to say to him. 

“You were certainly chatty with Karin when I arrived,” he comments. “Is it something I said?”

She shrugs lightly, looking down to straighten a corner of her puzzle. She doesn't meet his eyes, which any Uchiha would recognize as a sign of fear or desire for secrecy. 

Knowing his niece as well as he does, he does not even need to question that it’s the latter.

“I want to finish this tonight,” Sarada says instead. She’s been distracted long enough that she needs several seconds to reacquaint herself with the puzzle before she taps its half-filled center. “I plotted this out in my schedule and if I don’t finish tonight it’ll put me behind.”

“We can certainly try to finish it.” He respects Sarada’s obsession with time—always fighting against it, never having enough of it. “I only thought you would have more to say. It’s my last night here and Sakura will be home soon—you must be excited about that.” 

“She’s only been gone for a week,” Sarada says, matter-of-fact. “A week is barely long enough to be a mission. Shikadai’s mom leaves for weeks at a time to visit the Kazekage.”

He nods along with her. “And Shikadai probably misses her a good deal when she does.”

“Shikadai’d never admit to it, even if he did.” 

She’s being short with him, almost defensive. This is unlike Sarada, who has always appreciated a captive audience. She’d been hounding him and Karin that week, wanting everything she could get from them—village gossip and jutsu, jokes to tell her friends and corrections on her katas. 

Now that he’s about to leave, though, all she gives him are curt, clipped responses. 

Before he can point it out, there’s a strike of wild white lightning outside, bright enough that it cracks the dark night sky in two. A heavy _BOOM_ follows, and even the coffee table shakes under his hands. He hears a barely muffled _holy shit _from the kitchen, though Sarada doesn’t so much as flinch.__

__“I believe your mother said she’d be back in the village before the end of the night, if you were worried.”_ _

__It’s bad weather for traveling, but Sakura’s mission was short enough that she would’ve traveled light. She’s a capable woman regardless—Sasuke would not have married her otherwise._ _

__Sarada’s eyes linger on the window for several seconds longer before she picks up the cover of the puzzle box, adjusts her glasses again, and goes back to quietly sorting through puzzle pieces._ _

__“Well, you must be excited about next week, Sarada. Sasuke will be back from his mission on Wednesday.” He considers it a moment before he adds, “He’s been gone for several months. That’s much longer than most of Nara-san’s missions.”_ _

__Sarada’s free hand - the one not occupied with their puzzle - knots in the hem of her nightgown. “He said it’d be Wednesday. Who knows if he meant it.”_ _

__“Have you thought about what you’d like to do when he comes home?” Itachi tries to coax her out with a memory, an offering: “When I used to go on missions, Sasuke would always be waiting for me when I returned—he’d spend the whole time I was away thinking of games for us to play when I came back.”_ _

__Games that, inevitably, he and Sasuke rarely ever had the opportunity to play._ _

__In truth, he only has a vague idea of what it is they do together, what Sarada and Sasuke share— Sarada can be awfully stingy with her words, and Sasuke was never one to volunteer information._ _

__Itachi seeks out another puzzle piece, a ruddy-brown diamond he places in the middle of Tsunade’s forehead. “I’m sure he’ll do whatever you want,” he offers._ _

__Perhaps Sasuke and Sarada will also build puzzles together, if Sasuke could tolerate it. It’d be good for Sarada if they spent an afternoon working together, making order of disparate puzzle pieces, the months they’ve spent apart._ _

__Patience hasn’t ever truly been Sasuke’s strong suit, but there is still Sarada, and his niece is not an easy person to refuse._ _

__Nor is she someone he can bully into having a conversation she doesn’t want. “Sarada? I’m sure you have—”_ _

__“No.” She punctuates it with another puzzle piece pounded into place. “I have better things to do.”_ _

__He hears a snort from the next room over—it is neither polite nor concealed by any means. “Is that you, Karin?”_ _

__“Me? I didn’t say anything.” Karin steps out of the kitchen, one of Sakura’s mugs cupped between her hands. “I just work here.”_ _

__“I just work here.” Imitation is in her blood, but Sarada’s impression of Karin is much sweeter than the real thing, much more kind. Karin snorts at it anyway._ _

__“Ah—” He sighs. “Sarada, that isn’t a very kind thing for you to repeat.”_ _

__“Miss Karin said it.”_ _

__“Well—well, yes, she did.” But he knows better than to reproach Karin for her behavior. “Still, it isn’t something you should say yourself.”_ _

__Though Karin is a good friend of Sakura’s, Itachi at times finds himself wondering whether Karin is a good role model for someone as young as Sarada._ _

__In fact, he thinks Karin is rather poorly suited to it, regardless of how unusually drawn Sarada is to her._ _

__“She could learn worse from me,” Karin remarks, though she seems to know his mind well enough that she shoves his tea into his hands before he can answer her. “Makes me wonder if that’s why you’re working me to the bone in the kitchen.”_ _

__“I cooked—”_ _

__Again, before he can fully answer, Karin gives Sarada a soft flick on the nose and stands, still complaining as she walks out of the room. “This place would be in shambles without me, Sarada!” she rants, much louder than necessary. “All the work I do and he doesn’t even thank me!”_ _

__“Well, of course, ah—thank you, Karin,” he calls after her, though she doesn’t answer. She may or may not have heard him—she may or may not actually care._ _

__Sarada snickers and he sighs, so deep it makes his chest ache._ _

__At the very least, the mug is nice and warm when poor circulation means his hands are perennially cold. When Karin makes his tea, it’s a bit of a tossup—sometimes she won’t bother to wait for the water to heat all the way, sometimes she’ll forget about it, but will still serve it to him lukewarm._ _

__Tonight, though—tonight it’s perfectly warm, and within seconds his hands are a comfortable pink._ _

__Against his better judgment, he looks up just in time to catch Sarada sneaking a glance at him, her smile faint, but genuine._ _

__He pretends he doesn’t see her and takes a quick, precarious sip of his tea. The first sip is almost always the least offensive, he’s learned—he can hardly taste the matcha, but it’s smooth, little more than hot water._ _

__Well. Usually it’s smooth. He suppresses a grimace when he runs his tongue over his teeth and catches an unbroken clump of matcha powder, gritty and bitter._ _

__His doctor - that is, his sister-in-law - tells him drinking tea is good for his health. _And we want to keep you around for as long as possible!_ Sakura had told him, all perk and cheer. _ _

__He’s certainly outlived enough dark prognoses that he’s inclined to believe her._ _

__“You’re making a dorky face,” Sarada tells him. “You know you could just show her the right way to do it, right?”_ _

__“Of course I could,” but of course he won’t. “It’d be impolite of me to say something when Karin is kind enough to make it for me.” He runs his tongue over his teeth, and debates whether he could sneak a spoon out of the kitchen. She’s no shinobi, but sneaking things by Karin—that is always something of a challenge._ _

__Sarada shakes her head. “She always makes it wrong; you ought to know better by now.”_ _

__“Actually, Sarada, I think it’s perfectly fine.”_ _

__The tea may not taste good by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s still the first thing to make Sarada smile all night, and that's perfectly fine to him._ _

__“If you say so.” Sarada scrunches her nose, but doesn’t press him further. “Just seems funny to me.”_ _

__Her earlier mood forgotten, she returns to her puzzle, humming good-naturedly as she works._ _

__He supposes he has Karin to thank for that. He swirls the mug again, the cloudy green foam at the top dissipating. The matcha she added is at the bottom of the cup, he assumes, clumped together in thick glob-like layers._ _

__She’s not a tea drinker like he is. She couldn’t be any sort of tea drinker, he thinks, because if she were she’d probably know that matcha needs to be thoroughly whisked and aerated before it's served. Simply adding hot water to it is not sufficient, nor are a few half-hearted passes with a spoon._ _

__It’s much easier, he’s learned, to be quiet and grateful and sip his tea without complaint. Then, once Sarada has gone to bed and Karin is distracted, he will discreetly dump the remains of it down Sakura’s sink._ _

__“Did I put something in the wrong place?” Sarada asks from across the coffee table. She adjusts her glasses and squints at him, Sharingan-less but observant enough without it. “You’re making a different kind of funny face now.”_ _

__She has Sasuke’s impatience and Sakura’s drive to perfection—without waiting for him to respond, Sarada runs her hands over the lacquered surface of the puzzle, seeking out a mistake under her careful hands and eyes. “It feels okay to me but if you see something I don't…”_ _

__“You’re fine, Sarada. I was only thinking about something.” He hums and selects a random piece, if only to prove he’s engaged. “I would certainly tell you if you’d misplaced something, rest assured.”_ _

__“You’re not being much help tonight, you know!” She gives him a warning look, one tempered somewhat by the baby fat in her cheeks. “We could have finished this already if you were actually helping. I’m going to be very behind now.”_ _

__“I’ll definitely do my best.” To placate her, he scans over the puzzle briefly and finds a neat fit for the piece he’d selected. There are still large portions of Tsunade missing, and the village below is a gaping hole. “I was only trying to find the last part of the Nidaime’s forehead plate.”_ _

__Sarada hums approvingly and adds another piece, completing the rough frame of the puzzle._ _

__She seems calmer now, more social now that she’s had time to collect herself. He taps the empty space on the monument next to Naruto’s head. “Hopefully there will still be room when it is your turn,” he teases._ _

__“I’ll be the first Hokage with glasses,” she notes immediately. He isn’t surprised to hear she’s already thought that far ahead; Sarada doesn’t overlook anything. “I’ve decided—I want them to add my Sharingan too, since I’ll be the first Uchiha Hokage.”_ _

__“In a way.” When Sarada’s head jerks up, he continues. “Some people say Sasuke is like the Hokage, but instead of protecting the village from the inside, he protects it from everything beyond its borders.”_ _

__Sarada purses her lips. She’s tempted by titles, by dreams. “When I become Hokage,” she starts (and it is always _when_ , never _if_ or _maybe-perhaps_ ), “I'm going to be one just like Nanadaime-sama. I won’t need to leave the village.” _ _

__“Doesn't a great leader always take on the hardest assignments themselves?”_ _

__“Well—!” She flushes. “Working in the village is just as hard! You have to be here to look after everybody and talk to them.”_ _

__He offers her a smile. “Well, Sasuke has never had quite the same social skills that Naruto does. He has you and your mother, though, and of course he misses you both dearly when he’s away.”_ _

__Sarada’s face turns stony. “He says he misses me,” she says, but she doesn’t sound the least bit convinced. “He always says that kind of stuff to Mama, but then as soon as he comes home he’s getting ready to leave again, and then he never comes back when he says he will.”_ _

__“It is not always something that's within his control. You know that his missions—”_ _

__“ _I_ know that _I’mI_ always get things done when I say I will. I don’t see why he can’t do the same. I’m always on time to class and my practices and... and it’s not that hard! If he were a good Hokage, he’d keep his promises and come home when he’s supposed to, and then you wouldn’t always be making up excuses for why he isn’t here!”_ _

__“He isn’t technically the Hokage, Sarada, I was only—”_ _

__She lets out an irritated sigh and pounds down another puzzle piece with her fist. It shakes the table, but Sarada has the sort of incredible strength that slips through without her intending it._ _

__She scowls. “If he’s such a great ninja, I don’t know why it’s so hard for him to write home once in a while.”_ _

__“If he were able to…” Except it really isn’t about whether Sasuke is able to—it’s about whether there’s any single person in the village who could take his place. “It is not Sasuke’s fault that he does not, Sarada.”_ _

__“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Sarada says._ _

__It’s rare anymore that she’ll say anything at all about her father unprompted—in the last few months he’s struggled to find new ways of introducing the topic, to keep the ground fertile for when Sasuke finally returns._ _

__Before it’d been impossible to stop her—they would only ever talk about Sasuke. Sarada’s hungry mind was starved for any scrap of her father, thrilled over crumbs. Sasuke was another puzzle for her to put together, finding the places where _Father_ and _Brother_ and _Jonin_ intersected._ _

___But when he eats_ , Sarada had asked him once, leaning over a cafe table to get closer to him, waving her hands over his dinner, ignoring her own. _I want you to show me how he holds his chopsticks.__ _

__He misses those days, the times where they could fill an entire afternoon with memories of Sasuke._ _

__He only wishes he knew how to bring them back. Sasuke’s absences have grown too long, Sarada’s tempter too short. She doesn’t ask for anything anymore—Itachi has to force it onto her, must pry the questions out of her._ _

__One day he’ll learn to do it properly. Tonight, though—tonight is their last night together. “If we work diligently, Sarada, we may still make good progress on your puzzle.”_ _

__They continue working. Their movements are quieter, the rain outside heavier. Out of obligation, Itachi takes several more obligatory sips of his tea. He must still be doing a poor job of hiding his expressions, because he catches several more of Sarada’s suspicious smiles as they work._ _

__“You know,” Sarada says a short while later, “I didn’t get dessert tonight.” She sorts through the remaining puzzle pieces on the table without looking up, pushing them into line with the tip of her finger. They’ve already been meticulously organized by color, shape, and size, which tells him she’s only pretending to look through them._ _

__Itachi reaches for a bright blue square he places just above Naruto’s head. Puzzle building lacks every rule and mechanic that makes shogi a game of strategy, but the two are beginning to feel awfully similar. “Your mother doesn’t allow you to have treats after seven, if I’m remembering correctly.” He glances towards the clock. “It’s half-past eight.”_ _

__“But you still should let me.” Sarada pushes up her glasses and gives him a very concerning look. It’s far too devious to be Sakura’s, and yet too playful to be Sasuke’s. Certainly, it isn’t his. “I planned to finish this tonight, but now I’m behind schedule because you weren’t helping me.”_ _

__“And dessert would settle matters between us.” It’s a quick calculation—whether Sarada’s potential good will would outweigh Sakura’s certain wrath. “I’m listening.”_ _

__She grins. “We have leftover dorayaki, and you like dorayaki, and I would share some of it with you.” He can say without a doubt that her appreciation for sweets has come from him, but bribery—that’s something she must have learned elsewhere. “And I have been very good this week.”_ _

__“You have.” Sarada is always a well-behaved child, though he knows better than to take it for granted. The previous night, when Sarada had been much more social, she’d watched him while he cooked, tailing him around Sakura’s kitchen like his own little ANBU._ _

___I could do that on my own, I bet _, she’d said, looking on while he cleaned rice in the sink. _Next time, just let me do it, okay? I want to try.___ _ _

____Karin, of course, had sat nearby with one of her suspicious novels, eating grapes out of one of Sakura’s porcelain bowls, popping each into her lipstick-ringed mouth one at a time. He’d done his best to work fast and talk faster—the more distractions Sarada had, the fewer questions she would be able to ask Sakura about Karin’s reading preferences._ _ _ _

____He cracks a smile. “You’ve been very good, Sarada.”_ _ _ _

____“I ate all of my dinner too.” Sarada pauses, glancing up to gauge his reaction. He hums thoughtfully, as if he were still making up his mind. “And it’s your last night staying here before Mama comes home…”_ _ _ _

____“It is.”_ _ _ _

____“So…”_ _ _ _

____“Take your time with the puzzle. I’m deciding.”_ _ _ _

____“What!” When he raises an eyebrow at her, Sarada groans. “Fine.”_ _ _ _

____What he does not - and would never dare to - say out loud is that Sarada has Sasuke’s sharp, determined face while she works, and that he’s rather fond of watching it._ _ _ _

____He takes another sip of his tea, tipping his head back further to avoid tasting the grit that’s accumulated at the bottom of his cup._ _ _ _

____“Is there that much to think about?” Sarada’s arms are crossed severely, her fingers tapping impatiently on her arm. “You owe me.”_ _ _ _

____He hums indistinctly, if only to tease her a little more. “Perhaps you can have a treat.”_ _ _ _

____Her lips press into a thin, unamused line. “It’s been such a long time, though…”_ _ _ _

____Karin’s voice finally filters in from the kitchen, muddled somewhat by the running water from the sink. She’s been at it for a while—certainly she ought to have finished cleaning by now. “Iruka said it was that Chocho girl’s birthday today. Doesn’t that mean she already had cake or something?”_ _ _ _

_____That Chocho girl_ is Sarada’s best friend, but Karin has never seemed to mind those sorts of details too closely. Secrets and gossip certainly, but what is easily accessible, right in front of her—Karin will seldom concern herself with it._ _ _ _

____“Is that true, Sarada?”_ _ _ _

____Sarada frowns, but she isn’t the sort to give up after a single obstacle. She isn’t the sort to give up after any sort of obstacle, and he loves her dearly for that._ _ _ _

____She stands and starts off towards the kitchen, tugging the back of his shirt with her eight-year-old hands that are already so, so strong. “ _You_ haven’t given me a treat yet…” she argues, clever enough to still realize her burden has shifted—she’s made her case to him, and now it’s his turn to persuade Karin._ _ _ _

____He is, after all, her uncle, and uncles have a great duty to uphold. In the most delicate of matters - in training and bedtimes and timeouts - she expects him to be her advocate._ _ _ _

____This is especially true for late-night treats._ _ _ _

____He’s slow to stand—his body holds him back, his knees only allowing him to move so fast. Sarada’s hand tightens in his shirt._ _ _ _

____“I will try my best,” he promises her, “but let’s try to be quiet.” He gives Sarada’s head a soft pat and walks with her to the kitchen, gently taking her hand in his before she manages to tear another one of his shirts._ _ _ _

____Karin’s back is turned to them, occupied with the final few dishes from dinner. On the counter next to her is her novel—a few seconds pass, and she maneuvers her elbow to turn the page without using her wet hands._ _ _ _

____He holds one finger to his lips and Sarada responds with a toothy grin. It’s been at least ten years since he was assigned a combat mission, more than five since Sakura banned him from training of any sort, but some skills can’t be forgotten—when he walks into the kitchen and pops the fridge door open, there isn’t a single sound._ _ _ _

____The water cuts off and Karin turns to face them, drying her hands off on her pants. Her hair is coming loose, frizzy wisps like red clouds escaping from the low bun tied at her neck. Her clothes are creased and wrinkled, having dried under rather unideal conditions._ _ _ _

____Unlike him, she’d forgotten to bring an umbrella when she left for work that morning._ _ _ _

____It reminds him that he has something to look forward to—but that is a thought for later._ _ _ _

____She nudges up her glasses with the back of her hand, her palms still damp. “What are you doing?”_ _ _ _

____“Well—” He gestures at the several covered plates in the fridge. Karin doesn’t ever help him cook—she wouldn’t know what leftovers he’s saved. “I agree that dessert would be too much, I am only getting Sarada a small snack.”_ _ _ _

____Karin’s nose twitches. “She probably had cake or something earlier, at that girl’s party.”_ _ _ _

____(Again, he corrects her mentally—not only _that girl_ , but Sarada’s dearest friend._ _ _ _

____He says nothing of it aloud.)_ _ _ _

____Sarada pouts. “It’s been—”_ _ _ _

____Itachi hushes her. He’s learned this much over the years—Karin can never be beat with a lie. Only small half-truths seem to get past her, the faintest smudges of dishonesty. “Only something small, Karin. A very quick treat.”_ _ _ _

____“No treats after seven. That’s Sakura’s rule, not mine.”_ _ _ _

____“I can’t imagine a little bit of something could hurt, Karin. Just something small as—” As something to help take her mind off of whatever has been bothering her, but he’d rather not say that right in front of Sarada. “It would be nice as a—well, as a treat for Sarada. She’s going to miss us, after all.”_ _ _ _

____Karin rolls her eyes—emotional appeals bounce right off of her. “She can get a snack from Sakura tomorrow if she wants one so bad. Otherwise she won’t go to bed and Sakura will have to deal with her when she gets home.”_ _ _ _

____“That’s one possibility.”_ _ _ _

____“But instead you'd think it'd be nice if I let Sakura come in to work tomorrow on two hours of sleep, huh? Cause that'll definitely end well for me, right?”_ _ _ _

____“Well, perhaps—”_ _ _ _

____“Perhaps what?” Karin’s hands are on her hips now, which is a very dangerous sign for both him and Sarada. “Am I wrong? Because I would love to hear how.”_ _ _ _

____“Well—no, you are not wrong exactly.”_ _ _ _

____“ _Not wrong exactly_.” She snorts. “They teach you that one in ANBU?”_ _ _ _

____Karin is a rocking boat he does his best to hold steady. It’s in her nature to disrupt and disorient. She has no shinobi training he knows of—escalating conflict seems to be the only way she’s learned to take power for herself._ _ _ _

____It’s his nature to restore order, to seek compromise. To avoid just what Karin seeks—too much disruption._ _ _ _

____Itachi sighs. “My apologies, Sarada.”_ _ _ _

____Sarada pouts, her lip stuck out, every bit her father’s brooding, outspoken child even if she doesn’t know it. “That’s not very fair!”_ _ _ _

____“Life isn’t fair.” Karin holds her hand out. “It’s time for bed anyway, Sarada. Say goodnight—I’ll, uh, read you a story since he got to do the puzzle thing with you, how’s that sound? Stories are cool, right?” Sarada is far too old to have bedtime stories read to her, but Karin seems to be unaware of that._ _ _ _

____Like him, Karin has no spouse or child of her own._ _ _ _

____Unlike him, she doesn’t seem particularly interested in looking after children._ _ _ _

____It’s more than a little baffling at times—Karin isn’t patient or good with children, not by any metric, but Sarada is still infatuated with her. Enough so that she drops her arms and sighs, “Okay, fine.”_ _ _ _

____“Have a good night, Sarada,” he says, bending down to give her a gentle hug, squeezing her close until she lets out exaggerated gags and giggles. It’s a little silly, perhaps, but not enough to deter him._ _ _ _

____He pats the top of her head when he stands._ _ _ _

____He might not have gotten her the treat she wanted, but perhaps he can do better. “Sunday—I will set aside time at lunch. I’ll let Sakura know I owe you a treat. We’ll go to a tea shop and have the afternoon to ourselves.”_ _ _ _

____Sunday is perfect, he thinks—Sarada will have a day to spend with Sakura, but it is still early enough that he will not interfere with Sarada’s time with Sasuke._ _ _ _

____Sarada looks him over carefully, almost certainly holding some grudge against him for his very poor performance against Karin. She still holds her pinky finger out, silently asking for a better guarantee. With a nod, he wraps his finger around hers, awarding her a solemn promise._ _ _ _

____He keeps every single promise he makes to her. He broke far too many of the ones he made to Sasuke, but Sasuke is away so often that it’s difficult to make or keep new ones._ _ _ _

____Sarada, though—Sarada is not going anywhere. And he will be there for her, as long as he can be. It balances itself out, eventually._ _ _ _

____It is often said that the Uchiha love more than any other clan, that their love is as fierce and uncontrollable as the flames that they wield._ _ _ _

____For some, for Itachi’s cousins and his brother and already his clever little niece, the saying holds true. Sarada could not be as angry as she is with Sasuke if she did not love him so deeply, if she did not miss him immensely._ _ _ _

____Itachi has always been the odd one among them. He has never once been angry with Sasuke, no matter how long his absences grow._ _ _ _

____Itachi’s love is sturdy and patient: it does not burn wildly but is controlled, a light he holds inside himself. He does not cling in love but loves from afar, over barriers, long and enduring. His love simmers where other love burns bright, but perhaps it lives all the longer for it._ _ _ _

____He does not believe he could love otherwise._ _ _ _

____Karin coughs, waving her hand as if she were clearing the air in front of her. “Alright, alright, it’s time for bed now, though,” she says, and Sarada reaches up to grab Karin’s hand and leads her towards her bedroom._ _ _ _

____“I’ll pick the story,” Sarada announces, and Itachi knows very well that this means the two of them will be at least occupied for another fifteen minutes or so._ _ _ _

____“If you make me read the one about the fox with the godd—” She pauses, and glances at him, and starts over. “If it’s one with the fox and socks I might finally lose my mind.” Sarada grins, and Itachi is almost certain that it will be the one about the fox with the socks._ _ _ _

____“Good night,” he says again, though neither of them answer him. Karin throws him a quick look over her shoulder as she follows Sarada down the hall, one eyebrow raised._ _ _ _

____Unsure how else he might respond, he holds one hand up to wave, and Karin snorts before Sarada shuts the bedroom door behind them both._ _ _ _

____There are less-auspicious responses, he supposes. He hears Sarada plop down happily on her bed and assumes Karin can manage on her own._ _ _ _

____She’s left very little else for him to do—the tables and counter are cleared and clean, and the remaining dishes from dinner are drying on Sakura’s neat little dish rack. Her book is there too, though he carefully averts his eyes to avoid learning too much about it._ _ _ _

____He checks the living room._ _ _ _

____The spare mattress he’s been sleeping on is still lying next to the couch where Karin slept, though he’d been mindful enough to strip the blankets from both before leaving for work that morning, and had folded and put them away in the hallway closet while dinner was cooking._ _ _ _

____As much as he’d like to also put the mattress away, Sakura would be able to do it so much quicker and much more efficiently than he would. Not to mention, were he to attempt it alone, Sakura would be just as likely to fuss over him potentially overexerting himself._ _ _ _

____He grabs his tea from the coffee table and taps the edge of the porcelain for a moment while he decides whether there’s anything more he can do. Sakura typically keeps a very neat house, though, and he’s had more than enough time to catch up on household chores—the few family pictures Sakura has were dusted yesterday evening, and he’d been sure to water Sarada’s succulents on the mantle that morning._ _ _ _

____None of their various momentos are Sasuke’s, but Sasuke has never been a sentimental person._ _ _ _

____Finding nothing more he could do, Itachi takes his tea back to the kitchen and finally dumps it down the sink. The matcha is little more than sludge, so thick and congealed that he has to wash the cup out with water several times to get it all out._ _ _ _

____There’s a tidy metaphor to be had in the act of making matcha when it’s done properly, something subtle in uniting two conflicting elements in one drink and using the whisk to bring harmony to them. It’s the scientific nature of a suspension—two things might be brought together temporarily, only to separate again over time._ _ _ _

____It is not what Karin does. It is not in her nature to do so, but a ruined metaphor has its own kind of wisdom. If he were to direct Karin better, if he showed her the proper way to make tea, it’s very likely that she would stop doing it altogether. She isn’t the sort to take censure lightly, does not accept criticism with any sort of grace but wields her own bruised pride as a weapon._ _ _ _

____Itachi, as a policy, does not ever argue with Karin. He watches her often enough, though._ _ _ _

____Though these nights are the extent of their relationship, they’ve become more common as Karin and Sakura’s research has progressed. Beyond it, however, Karin seldom seeks out his company, nor he hers. Before it—well, if not for Sasuke and Sakura he supposes they wouldn’t know each other at all._ _ _ _

____He is a man, and she is his sister-in-law’s friend. Not even her best friend. Only a good friend._ _ _ _

____There doesn’t need to be any more between him and her than that._ _ _ _

____Time softens all things, however. It blurs memories and grudges and the boundaries two people set against one another. The Karin reading tongue-twisters to Sarada in the other room is a very different Karin from—from the Karin he had first met at his brother’s wedding._ _ _ _

____It is still Karin, though, and she has not fundamentally changed._ _ _ _

____Itachi waits several more minutes before walking over to Sarada’s room, leaning by the door to check if Karin has finished reading Sarada her bedtime story._ _ _ _

____Instead, he hears Karin laugh, a bright, mischievous thing that has him more than a little concerned. “—and don’t tell your uncle, okay? It’ll be our little secret.”_ _ _ _

____Finding that as good an invitation as any, Itachi cracks open the door just in time to see Karin’s hand dart away, a tell-tale golden wrapper disappearing under Sarada’s pillow. There is, curiously, no book._ _ _ _

____Karin and Sarada share a quick look before Karin leans forward to give her a quick peck on the forehead. “Have a good night, Sarada.”_ _ _ _

____“Go-good, er, night.” Sarada’s reply is rather suspiciously garbled, but she is at least polite enough that, even when she speaks with her mouth full, she at least knows to cover her mouth._ _ _ _

____Karin’s nose crinkles, but she dutifully gives Sarada one more kiss to the top of her head before scooting out of the bed and turning off the lamp on her bedside table._ _ _ _

____“Sleep tight, kiddo,” she says._ _ _ _

____Itachi shuts the door behind Karin, then thinks better of it and cracks it just the slightest bit for Sarada to still get a little light. Sasuke used to be afraid of the dark, years and years ago. Sarada keeps a stiff upper lip about almost everything, but maybe she would still appreciate it._ _ _ _

____He turns to Karin. Based on experience he knows she can’t be shamed; based on her expression, he thinks shaming her might only encourage her._ _ _ _

____“Well?” she prompts. “Let’s hear it.”_ _ _ _

____Not knowing what she wants to hear, he tries, “I hadn’t expected that.”_ _ _ _

____“It was just a little bit of chocolate. She’ll be fine.”_ _ _ _

____“I would have gone along with that, if you had told me.” He’d been the one who wanted to give her a treat in the first place, after all._ _ _ _

____“I mean, maybe, but now she gets chocolate and you’re taking her to dinner.” She taps the side of her head. “It’s all about strategy.”_ _ _ _

____“Still—” Again, he can’t help but feel Karin is setting a particularly bad example for Sarada, but he only shakes his head. “I still wouldn’t have objected.”_ _ _ _

____Karin gives him a smug look, her eyes glittering behind her glasses. “What, you gonna say something about it?” She likes challenges, he’s learned, but usually only when she’s the one issuing them._ _ _ _

____She wants—well, he can never be entirely sure what she wants. He tries not to consider it too closely._ _ _ _

____“I don’t have much to say.” He looks back at Sarada’s room before gesturing down the hallway, back to the living room. “Still, perhaps this is a conversation best held elsewhere.”_ _ _ _

____Karin shrugs, but still turns down the hall. It’s much easier to talk to her like that, he thinks—when her back is turned to him. “She’s been in a bad mood since I picked her up from school, so I did something nice for her. You gonna tell me I did something wrong?”_ _ _ _

____“Sarada and I have been talking all night.” He keeps his voice as calm as possible; it’s the easiest way to bring Karin back down to his level. “Naturally, she’s a little conflicted in how she feels.”_ _ _ _

____“Talking isn’t gonna do shit.” Karin turns back around at the end of the hallway, leaning with her shoulder against the wall. “You try to make her talk about Sasuke, and that just pisses her off.”_ _ _ _

____“Sasuke is her father.”_ _ _ _

____“Sasuke is a deadbeat who never comes home; at best, he's a relative.”_ _ _ _

____“Sasuke is coming back Wednesday. He said so in his last letter home.”_ _ _ _

____Karin snorts. “And you can’t even make yourself sound excited about it.” She nods her head towards Sarada’s bedroom. “Did you ever consider that maybe the reason she’s upset is because she knows he’s not coming? That she’s been let down so many times that she’s learned better? Some people want a little more out of their relationships than just a kiss and a hug every five years.”_ _ _ _

____Do they, though?_ _ _ _

____He contemplates asking her, but decides it’s a dangerous thought for Karin, of all people, to entertain._ _ _ _

____Itachi shakes his head. “People have a right to be content in the relationships they choose. I understand that you also want to help Sarada; I only question the way you go about doing it.”_ _ _ _

____“The way I do things seems to be working a whole lot better, you know.”_ _ _ _

____He takes in a long, heavy breath. Even when Sarada is gone, when there is no example to be set—Itachi does not argue with Karin._ _ _ _

____“I do not believe you and I are going to agree on this. Perhaps we can discuss something else.”_ _ _ _

____Karin rolls her eyes. “Yeah, no thanks.” Karin drops onto the couch where she’s been sleeping all week and closes her eyes. “You can’t protect him and Sarada at the same time. At some point you’re gonna have to choose. No one is making Sasuke do a damn thing he doesn’t wanna do, cause Sasuke does what he wants. Sarada is just a kid; she shouldn’t have to deal with his shit.”_ _ _ _

____Itachi ignores the obvious bait, and Karin’s arms flop down above her head. “Fine then.”_ _ _ _

____Having nowhere else to sit - and not wanting to further strain his back by sitting down at Sakura’s coffee table again - Itachi leans back against the wall. Some distance between the two of them is good right then, he thinks._ _ _ _

____He understands how things ought to work between them—if he does not open too many doors, nothing between them will change; he will always be Sasuke’s brother, and Karin will always be his sister-in-law’s friend. There’s nothing particularly complicated about that._ _ _ _

____Time has made him careless and indulgent, though. Karin is clever and strategic, but far too daring for her own good._ _ _ _

____They’ve spent too many evenings in this same room, him working his way to the bottom of a gritty cup of tea, and Karin easily filling any of the silences that inevitably arise between the two of them, stretched casually across Sakura’s couch as she is now._ _ _ _

____It’s much easier to talk to her at night, he’s found, when it’s late and Sarada is asleep in her bedroom, and Karin is only a foot or two away from him. When the lights are out and it’s dark enough that he can only see pieces of her lit under thin sheets of moonlight, a single cheekbone or errant elbow._ _ _ _

____He likes her best like that, asleep and near to him, asleep and silent._ _ _ _

____It’s much, much harder to talk to her when she’s awake._ _ _ _

____Minor things may change between them, certain edges may soften, but there will always be thoughts that he prunes and manicures like the prickly little cactuses Sarada likes so much._ _ _ _

____(He asks her once, unable to contain his curiosity, why he has never seen her in the company of another man. Karin had snorted but ultimately avoided his question—half-joking that he and Sarada took up far too much of her time.)_ _ _ _

____Karin sighs dramatically, scooting forward to let her knees hang over the arm of the couch. She leaves an open spot on the cushion next to her head, but it’s small enough that he doesn’t believe it’s intentional._ _ _ _

____“It’s not personal, you know. I’m not mad at you or anything. I just think you should let Sarada be a kid and have fun and be sneaky.” Her eyes dart towards him, unable to resist another barb. “And I think Sasuke is a piece of shit for not coming home.”_ _ _ _

____She waits for him, but he isn’t particularly sure what to say to that. He lets her continue waiting, and she eventually continues on without him._ _ _ _

____“Looking after her is like a part-time job for both of us,” she jokes, kicking one of her legs at him, her wrinkled black pants cuffed just below the knee. She finally notices the puzzle he and Sarada had worked on, and lazily picks up a piece and pats it down with the tips of her fingers. “I just want to have fun when I’m here with her, you know? It doesn’t have to be so serious.” She shrugs. “I never got to have fun when I was a kid—I like that Sarada’s got it so good.”_ _ _ _

____“I’d like to set a proper example for her, and have her go about things honestly.”_ _ _ _

____“And I think you’ve got that covered,” she says. “You’re basically her dad at this point. If Sasuke doesn’t get his lazy ass back to the village, she might start calling you _Papa_.”_ _ _ _

____It takes him a moment to register that she’s teasing him—something she does quite often. It hasn’t been something he’s always appreciated, and yet there’s an underlying closeness in it, an understanding of his sensitivities._ _ _ _

____He isn’t sure whether he appreciates that either._ _ _ _

____“Sarada can certainly tell the difference between her father and myself.”_ _ _ _

____Karin’s smile slips. Her eyes dim, and she stares absentmindedly up at the smooth surface of the ceiling. “Right.”_ _ _ _

____He clears his throat. “That is, ah, even given the choice between us, Sarada will always prefer her father.” And, though he doubts Karin needs to be set at ease, he adds, “I’m not angry with you.”_ _ _ _

____Karin hums considerately. “No, you’re not.” She turns her head and grins, her teeth white but not wholly straight, a tiny chip in one he’d noticed long ago. Still, she is smiling—he’s given her something she can dig into, a concession that’ll prolong the conversation. “Why don’t you come sit down then, Papa?”_ _ _ _

____He very carefully ignores the nickname but dutifully walks over to squeeze himself into the empty spot next to her head, though he leaves as much room between them as he can without being excessive. Propriety is a balancing act—he can only do so much or so little._ _ _ _

____Karin doesn’t seem to think anything of it; propriety isn’t a metric she recognizes. Her glasses sit crooked on the edge of her nose, and his hands itch with the sudden desire to straighten them._ _ _ _

____“What’s on your mind, hm? Intimidated by the pressures of fatherhood?”_ _ _ _

____“Not for me, I’m afraid.”_ _ _ _

____Karin’s eyebrows raise. “Fatherhood?”_ _ _ _

____“Being intimidated.” It may or may not be true, but Karin still appreciates the subversion of it—her laugh is a snort, crude but still something he can appreciate. Pleasing, that he’s done something to please her._ _ _ _

____It feels simple, but in truth Karin has done nothing but complicate his life._ _ _ _

____“A guy like you doesn’t flinch for shit—I can’t imagine anything ever getting to you.”_ _ _ _

____“Very little does.”_ _ _ _

____Karin only rolls her eyes, but it’s enough that he finally gives into his desire to straighten her glasses. “I can’t imagine how you could even see straight,” he remarks, if only to present some justification. Karin scrunches her perky nose to accommodate him—it makes her look like a rabbit. “There.”_ _ _ _

____“I could see just fine, you know.”_ _ _ _

____“Of course you could.” He leaves his hands where they are, fingertips on the corners of her frames. He’s only touching the frames, though—it’s nothing egregious._ _ _ _

____If she really minded, wouldn’t she have said so?_ _ _ _

____“Hello? You still in there?” Karin scowls and reaches up to poke his cheek with a single finger, similar to how Sarada often likes to get his attention. It’s not beyond the realm of possibility that Sarada learned it from how closely she watches Karin._ _ _ _

____“I’m here.”_ _ _ _

____Karin laughs, the tips of his fingers centimeters away from her cheekbones. It’s Karin, though, so she’s barely even fazed by it. “Think you could rattle around a brain cell for me?”_ _ _ _

____Before he can respond, he hears the click of Sakura’s key in the front door and jerks backward, quick as if he had been caught at something inappropriate._ _ _ _

____He hasn’t, though. He hasn’t done anything wrong._ _ _ _

____Karin leans up on her elbows, turning around to stare at him._ _ _ _

____“You okay?”_ _ _ _

____“Sakura is home,” he offers, though Karin almost certainly had known before he had. “We ought to greet her.”_ _ _ _

____Karin gives him an unimpressed look over her shoulder. “Well, yeah.” She slips off the couch and pads into the kitchen, her arms crossed as if she were cold. He follows behind her._ _ _ _

____Sakura is in the process of making herself comfortable. She drops her bag on the table and slips the headband from her hair, scratching the back of her head._ _ _ _

____Karin shakes her head. “You sure are stressed, huh? I could feel—”_ _ _ _

____Sakura reaches for Karin before she can finish talking, pulling her into a tight hug. Sakura’s head drops to Karin’s shoulder and she groans, and for a moment she doesn’t say anything, only sways back and forth in Karin’s arms._ _ _ _

____Sakura has always been exceptionally well put-together—her moments of vulnerability are few and rare. Itachi stands by the doorway and leaves her that tiny bit of privacy._ _ _ _

____Karin laughs and pats Sakura’s back. “That bad?”_ _ _ _

____“You have no idea,” Sakura moans into her shoulder. “I had every single sample documented and labelled but the daimyo’s adjustor insisted on going through each individually, which easily doubled the amount of time we were stuck there. It was ridiculous.”_ _ _ _

____Itachi might prefer to look away while Sakura vents, but Karin doesn’t hesitate to join her. “Fuck that guy. Fuck him and fuck your shitty daimyo.”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah, no thanks,” Sakura grumbles. She rubs away a smudge of makeup under her eye and just barely restrains a yawn. “Thank you so much for this. We just had to finish getting through those samples Sasuke brought last month and I hate having Sarada stay somewhere away from home for so long—”_ _ _ _

____Karin shushes Sakura like she’d shush Sarada—not unkindly, but not gently either. “Honestly, if this grant comes through we might actually be able to get lab equipment that isn’t older than Sarada. I’m willing to call that a win.”_ _ _ _

____“Sasuke will be home next week,” Itachi adds, finally inserting himself into the conversation. “In the meantime, I promised Sarada that she and I would meet for lunch around noon on Sunday.”_ _ _ _

____“Well, she’ll be excited about that. Since Sasuke is gone so much…” Sakura laughs, but it’s weary. She stares down at her headband for a moment, running her thumb nail along its tines. “It’s good you’re there for her, though. When Sasuke can’t be.”_ _ _ _

____He and Karin share a quick look, but thankfully she does not say anything._ _ _ _

____“I look forward to taking her. Mother mentioned previously that she’d like to have Sarada over again soon as well—she wants Sarada to meet her new squad of genin.”_ _ _ _

____Sakura smiles, close-lipped but genuine. “I’m sure Sarada would love that, too.”_ _ _ _

____Itachi glances over at the kitchen windows. He does not mind his sister-in-law’s company but there are limits to their acquaintance. Too much longer and she will be wanting a conversation, asking - as she always does - pointed questions about his personal affairs. The sleep he doesn't get, the meals he isn’t eating—matters he'd rather keep confined to her office at the hospital._ _ _ _

____Sakura tucks a stand of hair behind her ear and looks shiftily towards the door. “Well. You two probably want to be getting home now, huh?”_ _ _ _

____Karin heaves a sigh. “I feel like I can’t complain about late nights, but I’d love to get back in my own bed again.”_ _ _ _

____He nods politely to Sakura. “I will be back Sunday.” That seems to be all that’s necessary for him—Karin and Sakura share another quick hug but Itachi is already half-way across the kitchen, heading for the door._ _ _ _

____He’s been waiting all night for it, after all._ _ _ _

____Itachi holds the door open and waits for Karin._ _ _ _

____“I can walk you home,” he offers, opening his umbrella. His parents’ house is, technically, only a minute away, but he’s only one who had prepared for the rain._ _ _ _

____He isn’t in the habit of walking her home, but it seems a polite enough thing to do that Karin would not assume an ulterior motive in it. There really isn’t one. He’s certainly walked her to work before—the hospital and ANBU headquarters are near enough that it would be stranger if he did not._ _ _ _

____There’s nothing wrong with a man walking his sister-in-law’s friend home so late at night, especially when it is raining, and she forgot her umbrella._ _ _ _

____“You don’t really need to do that. I’m not that far; anyways, and it’s hardly dark yet.” Karin holds her hand out, catching several drops. Her hands are small but they’re rough, toughened by the chemicals she works with, her fingers short and thin. Unlike his sister-in-law, Karin wears no jewelry—no bracelets or necklaces, no ring. “Sakura will kick your ass if she catches you walking out in the rain like this, you know.”_ _ _ _

____“She says fresh air is good for me.”_ _ _ _

____Karin rolls her eyes but doesn’t step off of the porch. Instead, she says, “I’m just gonna change into something more comfortable anyway the second I get home anyway. ” She stares down at her work clothes—a white button-up, well-worn black flats. “Doesn’t really matter if I get wet.”_ _ _ _

____He waits a moment longer, but Karin still doesn’t move. Itachi rephrases his question. “May I walk you home?”_ _ _ _

____“You sure you know the way?” she jokes. Still, she steps forward and towards him, out from under the awning. “It’d be an awful shame if you got me lost in the middle of the village.”_ _ _ _

____Itachi holds his umbrella higher and offers an arm for Karin._ _ _ _

____She rolls her eyes and begins to walk down the street without waiting for him. He catches her in a few quick strides and she slows, allowing him to walk beside her. “Hopefully you will not let me lose my way, Karin.”_ _ _ _

____It is a Friday night, but Itachi supposes the weather is keeping other people indoors—the streets are empty, and he and Karin pass under dim lamps undisturbed. The wind is much calmer now, and the thrum of rain on concrete behind them is soft._ _ _ _

____The two of them are alone._ _ _ _

____Karin inches closer, tucking her outer arm closer to herself to keep her duffle bag dry. There’s only one umbrella between them; it is not unusual that they would be so close._ _ _ _

____“There’s so much fucking mud,” Karin complains, leaning against him. Her hands wrap tightly around his forearm. “God, it’s in my shoe now.”_ _ _ _

____“Apologies.”_ _ _ _

____Karin sighs loudly. “For real, are you pissed at me or something?”_ _ _ _

____“Me?”_ _ _ _

____“You’re not saying anything. Even you aren’t usually this quiet,” she complains. “Are you still mad about Sasuke? Or is it because I snuck candy to Sarada?”_ _ _ _

____“Sarada is awfully fond of you,” Itachi notes. “Sakura too.” He does not truly answer her question—a habit of his that Sasuke has complained of more than once._ _ _ _

____Karin seems to take it at face value._ _ _ _

____“Well, she better like me. We have to work together and all.” Karin tilts her head back, staring up at either the lamps or the trees lining their path, at either the stars or the moon. “And Sarada is fond of anyone who knows how to bribe her. That’s just being smart.” She adjusts the strap on her shoulder. “Sarada is probably gonna grow up thinking we’re married, you know. With the way we fight.”_ _ _ _

____“We don’t fight.” He considers whether he might want to apologize, but Karin doesn’t seem to be troubled by it. “She’s used to seeing us function as a pair. From her perspective, we likely are indistinguishable from other married couples.”_ _ _ _

____It is unsteady ground he’s walking on—he can almost feel the open air beneath his feet, the gravity pulling him to each side of the tightrope he's treading. “She’s an intelligent child. If she hasn’t already figured out our relationship, it will be no great surprise to her once she does.”_ _ _ _

____“We don’t fight ‘cause fights make you nervous; you get all jittery.” Karin gives him a careful look. “You can’t be like that with everyone; you’d be just about the shittiest ANBU to ever ANBU.”_ _ _ _

____“I prefer deescalation when possible.”_ _ _ _

____“You prefer running,” she retorts. It’s mocking, but he doesn’t mind it quite as much. This is teasing he thinks he can tolerate._ _ _ _

____“If I allowed every fight between us to escalate, I don’t think you and I would have much left to talk about.”_ _ _ _

____That’s the sort of reply Karin likes—she grins. “Well, you’re not wrong there. It’d be fun to try one out here and there, though. Have a little tussle for the fun of it.”_ _ _ _

____As he said before—lying to Karin is a fool’s strategy. The only way to get past her, to beat her uncanny instincts, is to show her shades of truth, the mildest dishonesty._ _ _ _

____He hadn’t lied; if he allowed himself to argue with Karin there’d be little else to say in the short time they have together. If he truly committed to it, he thinks his own stubbornness could easily match hers._ _ _ _

____But, as with most things between them, the truth is much more complicated. To fight earnestly with Karin, to commit himself earnestly to one of her spats, would crack open the very essence of their relationship._ _ _ _

____He doesn’t like that. He wants to keep as much of it to himself as he can—all of the things he knows about her, her insecurities and mannerisms, the tiny pieces of Karin he’s collected over the years, slipped into his pockets like lucky pebbles or handwritten notes._ _ _ _

____“Well, if you ever change your mind let me know; kicking your ass isn’t fun when you’re in retreat.”_ _ _ _

____He ignores the part of him that wants to let her comment slide. “I don’t see how you could unless I was in retreat.” He pauses. “Anatomically speaking, of course. Otherwise if you tried to kick me—”_ _ _ _

____Karin tries to give him a straight look, but her self control cracks and she laughs in spite of herself. “If that isn’t just the corniest shit I’ve ever heard.”_ _ _ _

____Avoidance is not a perfect art, and by no means is it one he’s mastered. Karin is slippery—he cannot always keep her where he’d like her._ _ _ _

____She shakes her head. “And you used to kill people, huh?”_ _ _ _

____“Once upon a time.”_ _ _ _

____Karin had joked earlier that he might get lost on the way—she might have meant it as a joke, but truly he has no reason to know where she lives._ _ _ _

____He does, though._ _ _ _

____He has never visited himself or been invited, but knows the building for all the times he’s gone out of his way to pass it, and found himself wondering if she was home._ _ _ _

____Still, he asks for confirmation when she lets go of his arm and begins climbing stairs. “Is this your building?”_ _ _ _

____“One and only.”_ _ _ _

____“I’ll walk you to your door.”_ _ _ _

____Instead of fishing for her keys, Karin turns around. “You should come in,” she offers, walking backwards down the hall. “It’s still early—we could have a drink or something, shoot the breeze. It’s a Friday night; we’re not too old and boring to enjoy it, right?”_ _ _ _

____“I believe I might be,” he remarks, though it's casual enough that Karin doesn’t read too much into it._ _ _ _

____“You and I only ever hang out when we’re babysitting, and you never say anything good when Sarada’s around.”_ _ _ _

____“Maybe.”_ _ _ _

____“It’s true; we practically work next door but the only time I see you is when Sakura is on the verge of a breakdown.”_ _ _ _

____“Well.” He concedes the point with a shrug. “Yes.”_ _ _ _

____There is no relationship, after all, that exists between a man and his sister-in-law’s friend. There is no word for it, no social obligation he has to her, nor she him._ _ _ _

____They are like water and matcha, two things that do not naturally mix, and even then only by artful hands. Whatever relationship is suspended between them in his sister-in-law’s house ought to be drudges in the bottom of their cups by the end of the night._ _ _ _

____He has to remind himself of this frequently, because the alternative is buying into a dangerous dream—believing that Karin would pursue him seriously._ _ _ _

____“Anyway, I do appreciate the offer,” he says, shaking rain off of his umbrella._ _ _ _

____What more is there to say? He appreciates it—there are very few offers he would find more tempting. “I will need to be at the ANBU office in the morning, however, and a late night of drinking isn’t exactly conducive to that.”_ _ _ _

____“Sounds like you’re a lightweight.” Her slippery smile is back. “Are you sure you don’t want just a quick break? You don’t even have to drink if that’s what you’re worried about—I’ll just drink by myself and then you—”_ _ _ _

____“I can’t,” he says, perhaps too quickly. “I’m afraid I really do need to be on my way home. But, ah, it is still very kind of you to ask.”_ _ _ _

____She cocks an eyebrow at him. “If you’re still mad about all the champagne I drank at Sasuke’s wedding, trust me this won’t be as bad.”_ _ _ _

____“It’s late,” he says, because any other reply would inevitably be too close to a lie._ _ _ _

____“Well, if you insist.” She leans back against her door and gives him a strange look, one he’s almost tempted to call considerate. “You really think he’s gonna be back next week?”_ _ _ _

____“I do.”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah. You do.” Karin smiles, soft and sweet. It’s a rare kind of smile for her, he thinks._ _ _ _

____“Good night, Karin.”_ _ _ _

____He’s been there long enough; his goodbye said, he waits until she slips inside and locks the door behind her. He lingers a moment longer, listening to her drop her bag and kick off her shoes before her footsteps fade away._ _ _ _

____Karin’s lights flicker on, muted behind her curtains. Itachi remembers—he really shouldn’t be spending so much time in the rain. The last thing he needs is to get sick right before his brother returns home._ _ _ _

____Years ago he’d take the rooftops home. Now he can’t guarantee his chakra will hold out long enough, that he won’t find himself stranded on top of someone’s house._ _ _ _

____He walks home alone, though the walk is much quicker this time. He has nothing to savor, no reason to wait._ _ _ _

____As always, the house is quiet—his parents are already sound asleep when he returns, his leftovers plastic-wrapped and waiting in the fridge, a brief, unsigned note from his mother describing their contents._ _ _ _

____Having already eaten, he leaves them be._ _ _ _

____His time at home is rarely ever more than a late dinner - his mother’s cooking, reheated long after his parents have gone to bed - and a quick few hours of sleep before he wakes and showers and takes his breakfast alone._ _ _ _

____Then he will return to work. Many shinobi do this—he is hardly unique. There is so little he is able to contribute that he has no choice but to work twice as hard, and twice as long to compensate for the work he can no longer do._ _ _ _

____He shuffles down the hallway to his room—it’s dark, but he has only ever lived in one house and he knows every one of its loose boards. His bedroom is the same one he’s had since Sasuke became old enough to sleep in his own room, his bed unchanged since he was a teenager._ _ _ _

____There’s a small bathroom attached. He discards his damp clothes and hangs them above his shower, letting them drip down into the basin. He has a dry change of clothes in his closet, older t-shirts he’s never grown out of._ _ _ _

____In fact, they’ve only ever grown looser._ _ _ _

____His bedsheets are cold and outside, the rain is still falling, soft plinks against his window._ _ _ _

____Across the village, he assumes, Karin is having a drink._ _ _ _

**Author's Note:**

> My original end note died when my laptop rebooted... very sad. 
> 
> My lil brother was VERY happy to hear fox in socks made it into a story I was writing. I like to think that baby Sarada just really likes/liked foxes and word games. 
> 
> A few things I'll say briefly here, then. Part of why this fic turned out the way it did is because I don't like the common headcanon of "if Itachi were alive, Sasuke wouldn't be avoiding his family." I just... don't think Itachi would. Karin here is that other voice in the fandom that just absolutely wants to drag Sasuke for being away which... I don't agree with either. I don't think Karin is wrong for feeling the way she does - power is everything to her, and Sasuke has power, so his choices don't necessarily make sense - but I don't agree that Sasuke needs to account for anything. 
> 
> Itachi here is a little softer than I usually write him. That's not a fluke--stay tuned for the next chapter :) i plan to, ah, be explaining a lot hehehe
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, for commenting, and for putting up with my bullshit as I start yet another WIP!


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